


The One Where They're in Denial

by orphan_account



Series: Pining Pines [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Makes more sense if you read The One Where It's Not a Secret (Except to Them) aka the first one in the series</p>
    </blockquote>





	The One Where They're in Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Makes more sense if you read The One Where It's Not a Secret (Except to Them) aka the first one in the series

 

By the time Stanford graduates, Fiddleford being several years older than him, has already settled down into Palo Alto. During that time Fiddleford receives three important phone calls from Stanford: The Breakdown, The (almost) Revelation, and The Invitation.

The Breakdown is not one actual phone conversation but many over the period of a few months. Stanford is nearing graduation and as he says, “As much as I love Stanley, the Stan O’ War is the farthest thing from my mind when I think about the future. There’s so many avenues to explore, so many academic conventions to attend, Nobel prizes to be won.” He sighs, heavy and burdened, “I can’t do that from a sailboat in the middle of the ocean!”

“Then tell him.” Fiddleford always replies. Except Stanford Pines doesn’t know how to listen to decent advice so the cycle continues again for another four phone calls before Stanford calls up and says, sounding distressed as all heck, “Stanley and I had a fight.”

“What about?”

“He said I was leaving him behind and accusing me of ruining our dreams and I said it was never my dream and he stomped off mad and tomorrow’s our birthday and this is going to be the real first birthday I’ve ever had without him and – and –“ and here Stanford pauses for a real long while and then whispers, “I think I made him cry.”

Fiddleford takes all this in, the uncharacteristic sadness in Stanford’s voice, the way his sentences ran together like he was running on a breath and now that he’s said what he needed; the way he seems to be waiting with that same breath for an answer. Then he says, “I told you you should’ve talked to Stanley sooner.”

“I know,” Stanford whines, “but how do I fix it?”

Fiddleford, unimpressed by his friend and sick of being ignored, says, “Why would you want to fix it? He’s gotten the message hasn’t he?”

“Because I love him!”

And here is where The Breakdown call transforms into The (almost) Revelation call. This is where Fiddleford gets his hopes up because it’s been years since he’s realized the romantic tension between the Pines twins and they still haven’t gotten their head out of their asses. This is the moment where Stanford proves to him that he isn’t as big of an emotional cactus as Fiddleford once thought he was.

“I love him and even though I don’t like the idea of being stuck in the middle of the ocean, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with him.” And with that a conviction is stirring on the other side of the phone and Fiddleford is swept by it. He smiles, wants to say, “Congratulations” but doesn’t know if Stanford is ready for that when Stanford continues,

“He’s my brother. My twin. It’s only natural I want to be close to him right?” In a way that screams He Doesn’t Get It and Fiddleford, who to his credit, doesn’t let it creep into his voice, feels his smile slip off his face.

It doesn’t take long for Stanford to call Fiddleford up confirming that, once again, the Pines twin are celebrating their birthday together. After that it’s only a few scant calls until The Invitation, otherwise known as the first time Fiddleford ever hears of the small Oregon town of Gravity Falls. It’s also the moment Fiddleford will look back on whenever he wonders why he ever subjected himself to being the third party in the Pines twins pining fiasco.

It’s insufferable, every day being in close quarters to Stanley and Stanford having to endure their flirting remarks at each other, knowing it goes nowhere but having to hear them anyway. Fiddleford would one day catch Stanford staring at a shirtless Stanley as he works on the Stanley Mobile, tracing his brother’s curves with his bespectacled eyes. On another he would find the brother’s holding hands, Stanley using his thumb to rub circles on Stanford’s palm. On yet another he’d find both of them snuggled up in one bed, Stanford’s head nestled in the crook of Stanley’s shoulder, Stanley’s arm thrown across Stanford’s body in a loose hug.

It’s frustrating and even more than that they _actually_ believe that what feelings they have for each other is platonic. Fiddleford, after first witnessing what could have been two lovers reuniting after circumstances left them long distance, thought that they were actual lovers trying to play it on the down low. Not that anyone with two working eyes couldn’t see what was going on. Fiddleford had dropped hint after hint stating that he was perfectly fine with whatever relationship the brothers had but each and every time Stanley or Stanford would look at him with confusion. The only reasonable conclusion? They didn’t know.

And it was driving him insane.

So Fiddleford starts doing what he told himself he wouldn’t do at the beginning of all this: he meddles.

“Y’know.” Fiddleford starts, “it’s kind of weird that you sniff your brother every time you hug him.”

Stanley’s looking at him weirdly. Granted, this is not a normal opener to use while washing the dishes together but Fiddleford is an opportunist.

“I don’t sniff Ford while we hug. Fidds are you feeling okay?”

“Are you sure?” Fiddleford asks, ignoring the question.

Stanley snorts, “Fiddleford, I think I would know if I sniffed my brother or not.”

The next time Stanford and Stanley hug it’s the next morning as Stanford’s busy at the stove trying to make breakfast. Stanley walks in, hugs Stanford from behind like a loving husband would a doting wife, places his chin on Stanford’s shoulder and inhales, just like he did all those years ago back in college -just like he does every day- and then slumps, satisfied at whatever scent he’s smelled, full body onto Stanford’s unsuspecting frame.

Fiddleford coughs pointedly. He watches as Stanley’s eyes fly open, his posture becomes stiff, his breath catches in his throat; he’s realizing that this may not be normal brother behavior. He disentangles from his brother and its awkward just watching him but maybe this will be the start to stopping this nonsense.

But just Stanley isn’t enough.

“Nice drawing you got there.” Fiddleford states. Stanford seems to not have been aware he was drawing anything because when he looks down he looks shocked to see a doodle of a shirtless Stanley on there. “Yes, well,” Stanford states looking shifty eyed, “Stanley is a good model.”

“Are those hearts surrounding him?” Fiddleford asks, pointing at an aforementioned heart, and it is, several shaded in hearts in fact, and really Stanford has to know he has a crush on Stanley, has to.

Stanford stares at the hearts, blank-faced, as if stunned by them and blinks once, twice, and then says, “There must be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“It looks like you have a crush on Stanley.”

Fiddleford can see the denial set in. “Don’t be preposterous Fiddleford.” He states, “We’re brothers.” As if that could explain it all away.

“Brothers don’t usually stare at one another when they’re half naked or draw each other in suggestive poses with hearts surrounding them.”

Stanford looks at the doodle he’s just drawn: Stanley, half naked, boxers low on his hips, happy trail and teasing smirk included – “That’s not suggestive.” He says with a blush high on his cheeks.

Fiddleford kneels down to look Stanford in the eyes but Stanford is staring straight ahead. Fiddleford looks at him and looks at him until Stanford eventually says, “Okay it’s a little suggestive I will admit!”

“Stanford.” Fiddleford says, begs, _pleads_ , “Stanford please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stanford says as he turns his nose the other way. Yup, denial. “This was a pleasant talk Fiddleford but I must take my leave.” And with that Fiddleford watches as Stanford retreats with the most duck-taped dignity Fiddleford’s ever seen.

After that the brothers seem awkward around each other. Every movement second guessed and every conversation as stilted as a newborn deer. With no positive results and a room full of a different kind of tension, Fiddleford shakes his head and thinks to himself, I shouldn’t have meddled.

But then one day soon after, Stanford approaches him. “I have collected various amounts of data and they all lead to the same conclusion.” There’s a pause, one that Fiddleford supposes is purely to indulge Stanford’s secret love for dramatic tension, “I, Stanford Filbrick Pines, have a romantic –and maybe sexual – interest in my brother.”

Fiddleford snorts, “ _Maybe_ sexual? Did you see the drawing you drew of him?”

“Okay, more than likely, sexual. What do you want from me Fiddleford? I have just realized that from the time I hit adolescence to present day I’ve been harboring morally wrong feelings for my brother!”

“About damn time.” Is all Fiddleford says in reply.

“How long have you known?” Stanford asks as he slumps into the nearby chair in defeat.

“The first time I ever laid eyes on you two in the same room together.”

“That obvious?”

“Written in the sky five times with a loud airplane obvious, yes.”

Stanford groans in his hand and lets out a muffle, “Why did you have to point it out? Why couldn’t you have left me in my happy bubble of ignorance?”

“Because it was driving me crazy.” Fiddleford replies. There’s a pause as Stanford groans into his hands. “...You know what you have to do now don’t you?”

“What?” Stanford asks, peeking out from his hands.

“You have to confess.”

“At a church? Fiddleford you know I am not big on the catholic-”

“No,” Fiddleford says patiently, “You have to confess to _Stanley_.”

Stanford stares at him and stares and stares, “You’re joking right?” He says after a good minute of staring.

Fiddleford tries to explain, tries to point out all the things he’s observed stating that Stanford is in fact, not the only one with a crush on his twin brother, but Stanford won’t have it. He splutters and denies and says, “ _He’s going to reject me,_ ” and honestly it’s not so worth the effort of Fiddleford going around in circles so he throws his hands up and says, “ _Fine._  I told myself to quit meddling so I’m not gonna meddle. Have fun trying to repress yourself,” and then stalks off to his welding station in the basement.

Which is where Stanley finds him not one hour later. Fiddleford sees him approach from the corner of his eyes, puts off the blowtorch, lifts off the welding mask only for Stanley to greet him with, “I think I’m gay for Stanford and I don’t know what to do.”

And that’s how Fiddleford went from having two _oblivious_ crushing friends to having two _knowingly_ crushing friends who still won’t do a damn thing. Honestly Fiddleford wouldn’t be surprised if he got hitched with a kid before either of them so much as kissed.


End file.
